One Hell of a Trip
by AgeAndRicchanOwnYourSouls
Summary: "Oh god. I may possibly sorta kinda have a huge gay man-crush on Canada." This is where Prussia's problems begin. To get to Canada, he'll have to deal with angry bears, love rivals, and a VERY overprotective brother. Pru/Can, Ame/Can, some others/Can
1. Chapter 1: A Sudden Realization

**Hey guys! Miharu and Mitsuki here—with our brand new pen name, AgeAndRicchanOwnYourSouls!~ So yes, we **_**are **_**MiharuAndMitsukiOwnYourSouls, just with a different screen name. Don't be alarmed, k people? Be cool.**

**Anyhow, about this story: This was actually done a few days ago when Miharu/Ricchan went over to Mitsuki/Age's house to help ease her boredom while Mitsuki/Age was babysitting her little cousin. Since the kid was pretty low maintenance, we made up this little story here by going back and forth, etc etc. It was originally intended as a oneshot, but it seemed to end a bit too abruptly and vaguely for our liking, so we decided to make this a multi-chaptered fanfiction. Enjoy!~**

Chapter One: A Sudden Realization.

Prussia had a problem. No, scratch that; Prussia had a veritable _army_ of problems, and these problems were all linked to the _main_ problem that was first mentioned. The reason for this problem (and also for all the other aforementioned annoying, irritating problems that stemmed from it) could be explained with just one name:

Matthew Williams.

Otherwise known as "Canada", formerly known as the "British Colony of North America", sometimes called upon as "America", etc, etc.

Now hell if Canada _knew_ that he was a problem, but he was not exactly _helping_ poor, awesome Prussia by metaphorically _shoving_ this problem into Prussia's face all the time. To be quite frank, if he knew _what_ exactly the problem was, maybe he could avoid it, but since that was a negative, he was quite frustrated. Urgh…

Narrowed red eyes scanned the room, looking for a certain _someone_, as they had several dozen times previously. He wasn't even controlling it anymore; it had become reflexive, a routine. This room was unfamiliar, however, and, seeing as no one was currently _in_ the room other than himself and his flurry of confusing theories, there was really no point to the action. He was too early. How unawesome. To eliminate the risk of being seen by any prospective attendees as less than his normally awesome self, he propped his feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. There. Nonchalant.

Appearances were everything.

The door behind him creaked open quietly. Someone was entering the room. Prussia heard the shuffling of papers and careful footsteps. Hm. Could be Japan, but he usually showed up with Italy and Germany, (Old habits died hard.) in which case, there would be _much_ more noise at his arrival. Then who was it? He was guessing that, whoever it was, was walking so quietly and carefully so as to avoid waking him up, but he didn't know anyone else who would be so considerate of him. Hell, most of those still-a-country-and-you're-not assholes would probably yell at him or perhaps simply just tip his chair over.

Unless…

"Who?" Asked a high-pitched, familiar squeaky voice in questioning tones.

Prussia's stomach did an uncharacteristically nervous flip. If _that thing_ was here in the meeting room, then that meant that… Maybe…

"I'm Canada, Kumakuma." Whispered back the unmistakeable, soft, polite voice that the albino man had learned to recognize within an instant, "Shh, be quiet, please. I think Mr. Prussia is trying to sleep."

Here we go again. Another stomach flip. What was wrong with him today? After all, it was only natural that even a quiet, withdrawn country like Canada would be unable to forget his sexy, awesome face, so why the hell was he feeling so goddamn _happy_ about it?

"Oh. Hungry…" Said the polar bear pointedly, very clearly not caring who or why someone was sleeping in his presence.

Canada sighed softly to the snowy pet, and replied to it in hushed tones, "I'll get you something to eat after the meeting, okay? As long as you sit still and be quiet."

"Hmph." Huffed the bear, obviously dissatisfied by the deal, but was, nonetheless, silent.

Prussia opened one eye, surveying the host country from his peripheral vision. The small blond man was shuffling his papers into order, placing them carefully into manila folders. His large, violet-blue eyes were trained fixedly on a thick stapled document, eyes roving across the pages with great speed, skimming it. What could the papers be, Prussia wondered. Maybe it was a contract? But no, he thought as he saw Canada run his fingers through his slightly wavy strawberry blond hair, staying clear from one strange, errant curl sticking out, it must have been something more personal, or there wouldn't have been such a strange mixture of sadness and nostalgia in his wide eyes. The nation shook his head, put the papers back in his briefcase, and pulled up his seat, one a mere couple of chairs away from Prussia's.

Prussia didn't realize he had been staring until he saw the Canadian turn to face him, smiling nervously and questioningly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Prussia. I hope I didn't wake you." He said apologetically with overbearing sincerity. The kid was always so repentant over the tiniest of things. It was strange.

_Well, shit_, Prussia thought to himself. He'd been staring. He had to find something to say, but he couldn't for the life of him seem to find any words to direct at the other man. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed it, and then repeated the action several times over.

Crap, now Canada looked really worried. Why, though? Seriously, he hadn't done anything wrong, he'd done nothing to offend the Prussian. Hell, most of the countries he knew that had ever done something regrettable to him (such as Hungary with her awful habit of hitting him over the head with a frying pan or a piss-drunk England attempting to revisit his pirate days by trying to hack Prussia's arm off with his sword) had never been so remorseful or anxious.

_But then again,_ Prussia thought knowingly to himself, _that's Canada…_ He paused for a moment, and his eyes widened slightly in realization. _Wait a second—"that's Canada"? Since when was I an expert? Mein gott, what's happening to me?_ He thought in frustration, frowning deeply.

So lost in his thoughts was the ex-nation that he didn't even hear the other voice his concern, nor did he notice when a certain Frenchman pulled up behind them both, smiling suavely.

"Ah, do not fret, mon petit Mathieu. Mon ami Prusse is simply lost in his thoughts." Chuckled France, patting Canada on the top of his head while smiling reassuringly. He pulled up a chair behind the newly attentive albino and nudged him pointedly. "Isn't that right, mon ami?"

"Huhhh? Uh… Yeah! 'Course!" Yelled Prussia hastily, slapping his signature Cheshire-esque grin onto his face. "The awesome me was just, uh, devising plans to conquer more vital regions! Yeah… Kesese…"

_Thank god for France and quick thinking. You're awesome, me._ Thought Prussia in relief.

Canada simply smiled and giggled lightly at the boisterous speech. "I see. Good luck, then." He said without a trace of sarcasm, then turned his attention back to his notes as nations began to file into the room.

Unbeknownst to Canada, he had turned at precisely the right time to miss seeing the stark pink coloring on the albino's cheeks.

France however, did not miss this.

_Onhonhon… How unexpected, indeed…~ _He thought to himself with a smirk. This was sure to be entertaining.

"Yo! The hero has arrived! Rejoice, bitches!"

Well… there was America, no doubt about it. Following that stupid, crude statement was the tell-tale sound of at least two dozen hands meeting with their respective foreheads in a brilliantly orchestrated symphony of facepalms.

"Shut up, you insufferable, bloody git!" Yelled England angrily.

America puffed out his cheeks in a childish display and cannonballed into the seat beside the Englishman, drumming his fingers against the table impatiently.

With that tradition of an exchange put out of the way, the first of two weeks' worth of Canadian-hosted world meetings had commenced. In all fairness, however, if would probably be more reasonable—and not to mention accurate—to call these gatherings "a complete waste of time and energy for an assemblage of nations who secretly despise each other and try at every waking moment to yell over each other to make themselves feel important".

Just as stated above, America further proved this point when he began to yell senseless profanities at Russia from across the long table and throw anything within arm's reach at the tall, creepy man.

"Communist bastard! Taste my pain!" He yelled, throwing one of his shoes across the table. Far from hitting the desired target, Prussia saw Canada narrowly dodge the flying footwear as it made a hole in the wall behind him.

"A-Al, calm down, eh? He didn't even say anything to you…" Said Canada just as softly and soothingly as he could given the circumstances, locking eyes with his older brother.

"Yeah, but he protagonized me!" Yelled the other blond North American, thrusting an accusatory finger at the smiling Russian while nearly everyone else in the room was trying to figure out why exactly America was talking to air at the moment.

"You mean _antagonize_, not _protagonize_, you bloody wank. There's no such thing." England scoffed with an annoyed sigh, shaking his head disappointedly as if to ask 'What did I do wrong…?'

"Same thing!" America snapped back harshly, still glaring daggers at Russia. "Ya communist bastard! I'll nuke you to death if you ever ask my little brother to become one with you ever again!"

_Just nuke his ass right now, he has it com—_Prussia's thoughts were cut off suddenly as he replayed what America had just said slowly in his head.

Wait a second…

'younger brother'? …That was Canada, so…

_Become one… With __**Russia**__?_

Oh _hell no_!

"Kolkolkol~"

"Al, calm down, eh. He asks everyone that." Reasoned Canada, sighing resignedly.

"But Mattie—"

"Seriously, who is he talking to?"

"Dunno. Maybe he really _is_ a schizo, just like the rumours say…"

"Al, just sit down, okay? Please…?" Pleaded Canada quietly, looking up at his brother with big, puppy-dog eyes.

"ERK!" Prussia exclaimed, and twitched, feeling his face heat up again and his body tense.

_What the fuck, Canada? Why are you so damn_ _**cute**__?_

The room was silent, and, despite his pleas to every nonexistent god he'd ever heard of, Prussia _knew_ that everyone had seen his little wimpy, unawesome reaction, and were looking for an explanation.

Well, hell. Prussia wanted an explanation, too, so those annoying sons of bitches could wait. To help himself, he attempted to piece together the events that might have led to this particular situation.

Event A: Prussia meets Canada just six weeks previously on April Fool's day when he is given maple syrup that the man claims will "bring happiness to all who use it!"

Event B: After three weeks worth of pancakes and syrup-induced bliss, Prussia suddenly and inexplicably decides to start attending those stupid, pointless world meetings again after several dozen years of avoiding it like the plague.

Event C: Prussia finds the Canadian after one of the meetings and asks him for some more syrup. He gets some. (But not like that unfortunately and oh hell he's getting off topic. Snap out of it!)

Event D: Despite having the wonderful, maply goodness in his awesome possession, he continues to go to the meetings and finds himself looking around for Canada every chance he gets. Though he doesn't need to if it's about the syrup; he's gotten three months' worth, easy.

Event E: (This occurs today.) Prussia continues to look for Canada. He notices that whenever he sees or even hears the Canadian, his stomach does weird, loopy flips and he is suddenly at a loss for words when in the general vicinity of the man.

Event F: (Presently.) His mind is cluttered with thoughts about how adorable Canada is and other such things of this nature. His face is bright red and he is either having some sort of attack or his heart is, to use Japan's otaku terminology, going "DokiDoki".

He considered these events for what felt like hours, and suddenly came to a conclusion.

_Mein gott… I may possibly maybe sorta have a huge gay man crush on Canada._

Well, shit.

"Ve, I think Prussia-nii is dead~ Ludwig, what do we do?~"

"Just leave him be, Feliciano. He'll snap out of it eventually."

"Gee, thanks West. Your love touches my awesome heart, it really does." Said Prussia sarcastically, finally snapping out of it. Germany purposefully ignored him and resumed the meeting.

_So then… I kinda sorta maybe-ish like Canada_… He thought, looking over at the oblivious, attentive Canadian. _Well… This is gonna be one hell of a trip…_

**Please remember to story alert/favourite/author alert/favourite if you like the story, and, above all, review please!~ We love reviews most of all!~ OUOb We will love you forever for it, screen name or anonymous, we just like to hear from you~! Second chapter is in the works!**

**-AgeAndRicchanOwnYourSouls.**


	2. Chapter 2: Full of Surprises

**Holy shit on a stick guys. OUO You're all so awesome. Honestly, we were going through our e-mail to see if any of our favourite fanfictions had been updated, and then we saw an inbox literally full ONLY with your alerts/subscriptions, and we even got two reviews! We almost shat bricks. Jeez. Pressure here. Gotta make this story good. Alright. Lezzdo this!**

**-Age and Ricchan.**

Chapter Two: Full of Surprises

"Who're you?"

"I'm Canada, remember? The guy who feeds you?"

"Oh… Can we eat now?"

There was a patient sigh. "Yes, yes we can."

"Timmy's."

"Alright."

Canada picked up the heavyset polar bear with a bit of difficulty, balancing his pet on one arm while he gathered his notes in the other. Most of the nations had already left for the day, trying to remember where exactly they were and where they had booked a hotel room. (He hoped they at least had the sense to write it down. Really, he wasn't looking forward to seeing a bunch of homeless nations on the street or raising hell in overcrowded bed and breakfasts.) With that thought in his mind worrying him, he tried to preoccupy himself with cleaning up the borderline massacred meeting room before his boss came in and saw it. (Because, boy, if he saw it, Canada was sure to get a lecture…)

He looked to his left from the corner of his eyes and caught sight of a dazed Prussia looking up at the ceiling, pursing his lips as if in a deep concentration. To be blunt, Canada found Prussia's behaviour at the meeting strange and quite worrying. There had to have been something on the albino's mind, as he seemed to be spacing out quite a bit during the meeting and not throwing in nearly as many crude comments during the discussions, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out what was up with the man. Also, oddly enough, he had spotted the ex-nation, on several occasions, sort of, well… _staring_ at him, and with a confused, frustrated sort of look on his face, as if he was trying to think of something really hard. Could it be that the man actually _remembered _Canada from their last couple of meetings?

But then, he told himself, it was equally—if not more so—possible that the albino had simply mistaken him for his older brother, like everyone else who could see him did. It frequently happened. (In fact, he still had a bit of a bump on the back of his head from the time the week previously when Cuba had "mistaken the two".)

That hypothesis, too, however, was shattered by a simple two words spoken loudly, in a drawling tone, behind him.

"Canada, right?"

"Maple!" Canada screeched in surprise, nearly dropping all the contents under his care in shock. He heard snickering behind him, so he turned around, only to come face-to-face (well, more like face-to-chest. Prussia was very tall and Canada was, regrettably, very short.) with none other than the self-proclaimed "Lord of Awesome" himself.

"Kesese, you sure scare easily, don't you?"

"M-Mr. Prussia…" Canada sighed out meekly in relief, clutching at his heart. He looked up at the man. "S-sorry, you just s-startled me a bit, is all…"

"Yeah, my awesomeness has that effect on people." Grinned Prussia triumphantly, looking quite proud of himself.

Canada politely decided not to comment on that, sweatdropping. "Yes, well… Oh! Sorry, was there something you needed?"

_Booze, vital regions…_ Prussia listed off in his head, though his stomach disagreed, growling adamantly. _Oh, and food…_ "Gah, stupid stomach, shut up down there!" Well that was embarrassing. He was so unawesome today, damn it.

Canada didn't seem to mind it much, just giggled that fucking adorable giggle of his. (_And seriously, no guy should be able to giggle like that, it's not natural, _thought Prussia bitterly as his insides melted just a little bit.)

"Um, if you're hungry, me and Kumahira were gonna go to Tim Horton's. Do you wanna come?"

Prussia instantly had his answer, (as did his stomach) but he realized that if he just blurted out "Yes!" too soon he'd look too eager, not to mention totally wussy, so he pretended to consider the offer as he brushed an imaginary speck of dust off the table.

"…Sure, why not? I'm always up for spreading my awesomeness around to the less fortunate."

"Alright, then. Follow me. Tim Horton's isn't too far a walk from here." Canada said with an amused smile, walking to the door and gesturing for Prussia to follow.

While they were walking towards their destination in the cold, wintry Canadian climate, three things were simultaneously running through Prussia's head:

Number one: _"God you're cute. Why are you so cute?"_

Number two: _"If the weather's like this for the rest of this trip, I'll freeze my awesome five metres off…"_

And number three: _"Who the _hell_ is Tim Horton?"_

"Okay, here we are." Said Canada cheerfully, opening the door to the coffee shop open.

_Oh, so _that's_ what it is… Huh._ That made much, _much_ more sense.

The popular coffee shop was crowded, and the place was filled with the voices of chattering people over the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Only through a nearby couple surrendering their seats in favour of trekking back out into the snowfall outside did Canada and Prussia manage to obtain seating in the packed building. They were both silent for a while, trying to figure out what to order. After a few moments of quiet, Prussia figured out his order and Canada got up to get it for him. Prussia attempted to fish some money out of his pocket, but Canada wouldn't take it.

"I'm the host country." He said firmly, pushing Prussia's money away gently. He smiled politely. "It's the least I can do to show some Canadian hospitality." The argument was won by Canada's apparently signature move, the puppy dog eyes, and he strode to the counter leaving a very confused, blushing Prussia behind.

"Oh! Williams! Back again, are we?" Grinned the imposing, moustached manager currently stationed behind the cash register.

"It's 'cause I make the best damn coffee ever. Ain't that right, honey?" Called out a very tan woman pouring out coffee into a few roll up the rim mugs. She smiled at him.

"Oh, lay off, Lorraine, that egomania of yours is getting outta control." Snorted an older teenage girl, boxing up a dozen donuts for her customer.

Prussia blinked. Huh. It seemed that Canada was quite popular with the workers here… It was sort of weird to see, given that very few countries could remember Canada even seconds after he told them his name, let alone know him by the face. All the same, he couldn't help but smile. Canadians, huh? They seemed like okay people.

Lorraine the "best coffee maker in all of Canada" set the orders down on the counter, and arched an eyebrow as the blonde, glasses-clad nation dug around in his pocket for change.

"Oh no, honey," She said, pursing her lips and wagging her finger at him, "we've been through this before. You don't pay here. Nu-uh."

"But—" Canada began meekly.

"Nu-_uh_." Repeated Lorraine resolutely, staring the timid man down.

"Just give up, Matt, eh? You'll never win against her." Snickered the donut girl, amused by their antics.

"Yeah, Williams. 'Sides, we owe ya." Said the manager with a (somewhat frightening) grin.

"…"

"Boy, you either take it free or I will kick your cute lil white ass." Warned Lorraine sternly, despite the smile on her lips.

"Okay, okay. Let's not do that now, eh?" Matthew laughed nervously, taking the items. "Thank you." He called over his shoulder as he walked back to the table and sat down, handing Prussia his order. Prussia raised an eyebrow in questioning of the events that had just occurred before him, and the blond gave him a sheepish smile, and began to explain.

"This place was one of the first Tim Horton's ever built, by far the first in this area. The manager currently is actually the great grandson of the first manager of this place. About a year ago, the mayor here was planning to demolish this place in order to replace it with a Starbucks." Canada narrowed his violet eyes at the name, but continued, "Had to fight him tooth and nail, this place wasn't doing so well at the time, but I managed to keep it. The workers here just have a good memory, is all." He laughed. "It isn't at all an interesting story, but at the time I was horrified. I mean, a _Starbucks_? Honestly. They serve bona fide hot water flavoured lightly with weak coffee beans saturated in whipped cream, and—I… I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry…"

Prussia sat with his cheek balanced on one palm, an amused smile playing on his lips. "No, go on, go on. So you hate Starbucks."

Canada huffed indignantly, (Or, Prussia realized, as indignantly as he could, which was not a very threatening sight at all.) and resumed ranting, "It's a disgrace to the caffeinated beverage franchise. Leave it to my brother to create something so tacky and overpriced then spread it like a disease in _my_ country. It's even worse than McDonald's…"

The paler man snickered, taking a sip of his coffee as he continued to listen. Normally he didn't have the attention span to listen to someone carry on like this about something so trivial, but there was something about the way the Canadian puffed out his cheeks and pouted that was undeniably motivating for him to keep paying attention. "And is everyone in your country so against it, then?"

"Every person wo has ever stepped into a Tim Horton's in their entire life. So basically enyone with taste buds." Canada stated, quite adamantly.

"Tell it, bro!" Yelled a dazed, laughing voice from nearby. A fist was thrust in the air.

"Thank _you_." Said Canada with a grin.

"No problemo, bro! Oooh, did I just speak Spanish? I did! Billingual, bitches! Hahaha—ha—" There was a sharp 'bang!' sound shortly thereafter, and Prussia turned around in his chair to stare at the man who had just passed out and slammed his face against the table.

"Jesus Christ." Said Prussia.

"He okay, guys?" Asked Canada over Prussia's shoulder. Two guys sitting with the other man gave him the thumbs up.

"He's fine, broski!"

"He'll be alright. He just greened out, is all." Said Canada, taking a casual sip of his coffee.

"So… I take it he's a druggie."

"Mhm. Specifically, he smokes weed." Explained Canada in a strangely nonchalant tone, as if answering questions of this nature was the norm. Then again maybe it was. He was acting very cavalier about it all.

"That so?" Prussia said offhandedly.

"Yeah. Purely weed, no meth or heroin. At the least, the guy's loyal to his brand." Canada hummed, then looked over at Prussia to analyze his expression for any discomfort. "Sorry, eh. Is this a bit of culture shock?"

Prussia paused to consider this. "No, I've seen weirder… But you mild-mannered Canadians actually do that kinda shit? I would never have guessed."

Canada blinked. "Really? We're practically the weed capital of the world. Teachers are smoking on their breaks with students, kids are greening out all over the place. It's quite a mess." He sighed. "Just last week I had to deal with a cop in Vancouver rolling joints and selling them door-to-door. There's good money in it… Or so I hear."

_And this is all coming from shy, quiet Canada… The world is fucking _full_ of surprises._ The ex-nation couldn't help but laugh. An interesting trip, indeed.

"Gotta say though, Canada," The blond's heart leapt a bit. How many times had Prussia remembered his name? He never seemed to forget in the first place. It felt nice. "I dunno if your argument is so persuasive when your only ally is a weed-smoking burnout."

"Even weed smokers know that Starbucks is absolute crap, eh. It's now a fact, you are my witness." Said Canada stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Prussia was about to say something, when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. He grabbed it and looked at the ID. Germany.

_And just as I was getting somewhere, too._ Prussia thought with a frown as he looked at a (totally endearing) pouting Canada.

**Urghhh… This chapter ended so… awkwardly. We didn't know how to do it without it being so… disconnected. Sorry, guys. We promise that the next chapter will be better, so please keep reading. If you like this story so far, or have any feedback for us, please review. We love them, and we don't bite. (Much. ;D)**

**-Age and Ricchan.**


	3. Chapter 3: New Lodgings

**Have we mentioned how much we love you guys? Because really, we do. More of a full inbox. Thanks everyone!~ X3 (Man, people really like PruCan, huh…? Hee~) Well, shall we begin the third chapter?**

**-Age and Ricchan**

Chapter Three: New Lodgings

_Why the hell is Germany so boring? Really. _Was the thought that was currently running miles through Prussia's mind as he rolled his eyes, groaned, and occasionally managed to work in a "yes, I'm awesome" or "no, I'm awesome" in edgewise to what could only be categorized as a one-way conversation with a strong intonation of scolding and reprimand. The basic gist of their exchange was this: Prussia had forgotten to book his and Germany's hotel rooms like he had promised, Germany had found a place to stay the night, (and Prussia had a creeping suspicion that it was with Italy, because really, his brother was very transparent and had no other friends, anyway) but he was leaving, bitterly, Prussia on his own.

_Stupid unawesome bruder…_ Prussia thought sourly as he bashed his thumb angrily at the 'end' button, hanging up on Germany mid-sentence. He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his face neutrally _awesome_ as he looked up to lock eyes with a concerned Canada.

"Is there something wrong?"

Prussia paused. Hrm. How to answer that… Ah, screw it. "Sort of. Of course, it's not a problem for the awesome me, but I need a favour. An awesome favour."

"Sure." Canada replies without hesitation, tilting his head. "What is it?"

And that is how, after picking up a rental car, going to the hotel to collect his luggage, and calling a few hundred dollars worth of room service up to a random room under the generous donation of Ludwig Beilshmidt, Prussia landed himself a sweet guest room setup at Canada's place.

This was gonna be pretty interesting, all right…

…You know, if he ever got past the _front door_.

"America." Prussia said in calm recognition, nodding irritatedly at the man currently blocking the doorway to Canada's house.

"Prussia. I'd say I'm happy to see your pasty, no-longer-a-country ass, but I'm not, so I won't. What the hell are you doing at my little brother's house?" America said suspiciously, frowning deeply and crossing his arms over his chest.

Well, that was direct enough. The two glared at each other.

"That's not what your mom said last night. And I'm crashing here, what's it to you?" Prussia said coolly, narrowing his eyes.

"You're totally suspicious, dude! There's no way I'm letting you stay he—"

"Al, last time I checked, this was _my_ house." Canada said blankly from behind him, making both nations jump, as they'd not noticed him standing there. "Really, it's none of your business who I lend a room to, eh."

"A room in your _house_?" America said, flinging his arms around, evidently in a vain attempt to put stress upon his main point.

Canada's expression went flat. "No, Al, a room in my_ garden shed_." He was, evidently, able to use sarcasm. Who knew?

America blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

_What an idiot._ Prussia thought with a snort.

"No, Al, I don't even _have_ a garden shed." Sighed Canada. He turned to Prussia. "Sorry about my brother, eh. He's paranoid."

"I am _not_!" America protested in a whiny, childish tone.

"Al, you believe in the mass cultural delusion that is 2012."

"Oh, you say that now, but when the zombies come out and all the buildings explode, who's gonna be wanting in on my hella epic 2012 bomb shelter, huh? Yeah, that's right, _you_. Because _I'm the hero._"

Canada resisted the urge to smack his forehead. It was a very strong urge. He turned away from his brother and back to the Prussian again. "Right… Well, Mr. Prussia, the guest room's upstairs. I'll show you, eh."

By the time Canada had finished showing him around the house and managed to get (bribe) America out of the house, ("Yes, I will lock all the doors at night. No, I am not worried about my 'vital regions'.") it was already fairly late into the night. Apologizing again for any discomfort his older brother's bluntness had caused, he smiled, picked Kumajirou up, and bade him goodnight. Prussia ambled up the stairs soon after in a familiarly daydreamy state, flopping down on the guest bed with a yawn.

After that, everything went black.

He woke up the next morning to the most _awesome_ thing ever: the smell of pancakes in the making. Stumbling over himself to get dressed and down the stairs, he booked it for the kitchen counter and pulled up a chair. Then, resting his chin lazily on the table, red eyes half-lidded, he looked into the kitchen.

And now Prussia had to correct himself, because he realized that waking up to the smell of pancakes—although wonderful and amazing—was _not_ the most amazing thing to wake up to. Oh no, the most _awesome, amazing_ thing to wake up to was _Canada_, in an _apron_, _making_ the aforementioned breakfast item.

The quiet blond appeared not to take notice of him, as he continued to shuffle softly around the kitchen, the hair tied back at the nape of his neck swishing around as he went, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like 'O Canada' under his breath as he flipped the pancakes with masterful skill. From the corner of his eye, Prussia saw the man's bear, Kuma—uh… Kumasomethingorother—pad softly into the kitchen, pawing at the apron-clad man's pant leg.

"Who're you?"

"Oh, Kumasora!" –Was it just Prussia's imagination, or did that bear's name change every time Canada said it? No, it was probably just his (awesome) imagination. "I'm Canada, remember?"

"No…" Said the bear bluntly, looking up at his owner with the blankest stare a bear could give. "Food?"

"It's not done yet."

"Hrm."

The albino cocked an eyebrow as the polar bear climbed the seat next to him and plopped down, looking impassive. How the hell could a bear look _impassive_? His thought process was cut off as a plate of steaming pancakes was set in front of him, along with a coffee. He stared at it with hungry eyes, practically drooling. Canada's cheerful laugh sounded in front of him, and a bottle of delicious maple syrup was placed into the pale man's waiting hand. Prussia immediately dug in.

Hot _damn_ Canada made good pancakes! The ones Prussia made for himself had always had a tendency to burn at the bottom, but his were light and fluffy and awesome. He gulped down a huge mouthful and prepared to—wait for it—say something _nice_ about someone or something other than himself, when something made him freeze up.

Canada's large violet eyes were trained elsewhere, a faraway, dreamlike quality to the endless violet. A drop of syrup landed on Canada's finger, and, never one to waste the treasured treat, he lifted his finger to his mouth, lips parting slightly so a pink tongue could dart out and sweep the substance away. Though in reality this action took mere seconds, Prussia, the poor bastard, was seeing this in an overly-suggestive, sexual slow motion scene.

The sexual tension was suffocating. Prussia had to fervently remind himself that, yes, this was the man he was (heavily) attracted to, sitting a mere dozen inches or so away, but no, it probably wouldn't go over too well if he just leapt across the table to jump the smaller man, so he was attempting to fixate his attentions on anything _other than_ the completely oblivious Canada.

[Prussia earned the power of self-restraint. Plus 200 experience points!]

Sitting in utter silence, it was mere coincidence that both parties focused their gazes on the clock, but it was very lucky that they did, as said item currently spelled out their imminent misfortune.

11:45.

They had to be at the meeting by 12:00.

It took at least 25 minutes to drive there.

Translation: They were screwed.

"Maple!" and "Fuck!" rang out simultaneously as the two tripped over themselves to pull on their shoes and coats and jump into Prussia's rental car.

"We're not gonna make it!" Canada exclaimed despairingly, buckling up just in time before they went over a huge speed bump.

Prussia slammed his heel down on the gas pedal, narrowing his red eyes in determination.

"Oh yes we are. You know why? Because I am The Awesome! Kesesesese!"

Canada gave out a shriek of terror as the speedometer jolted upward sharply and the ex-nation laughed maniacally, completely ignoring every rule of the road that had ever been put into play ever. By the time they arrived just outside the meeting room, hair tousled and expressions exhausted, Canada was on the cusp of a mental breakdown. Prussia then boldly kicked down the doors and loudly proclaimed,

"Yo! The awesome is here! With Canada! You may commence with the bowing!"

Canada fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. Everyone was staring. Why was this the only time that he was being noticed? For once, Canada yearned to be invisible.

**Well this was… sort of lame. Other than the blatant sexual frustrations of Prussia scene, not much happened, did it? Sorry, guys. And it's short, too! Craaaappp… We promise the next chapter will be better. (We hope.) As always, we look forward to hearing from you. The next chapter is already in the works.**

**-Age and Ricchan.**


	4. Chapter 4: Quarrel

**Crap. Well. Rereading last chapter, we just couldn't wait to make a new one, because, quite frankly, the last chapter **_**sucked.**_** Hopefully this one is… less clichéd and more interesting. So… As promised, here is your new chapter. Enjoy with syrup. **

**-Age and Ricchan.**

Chapter Four: Quarrel.

America was a tad bit irritated. Arms crossed resolutely over his chest, he attempted the impossible feat of burning holes right _through_ the red-eyed, white-haired man sitting just a few seats away from his brother. Usually he couldn't care less if the Prussian showed up late to the meetings, (or if he showed up at all, for that matter. They weren't exactly friends.) but this time was different. This guy was currently stealing a room from his brother Canada, and the two had shown up, late and _together_, to the meeting. Canada was (usually) punctual (though he _did_ seem to sleep in a lot.) to these meetings and took them very seriously, but for some reason, he had shown up late with Prussia.

_Why had he shown up late with Prussia?_

Over the steady hum of conversation around him, America could hear the unmistakable snickering of a Frenchman, which _had_ to have followed a dirty remark before that. About who, though? Canada and Prussia?

Hopefully not.

Prussia snapped something back in rapid-fire German, looking defensive. France did not look convinced. Canada let out a soft sigh and murmured something to France, who looked thoughtful, then relented (somewhat). Good old Canada, always keeping the peace.

Canada. His younger brother. America frowned. He might have (more than) occasionally forgotten who his brother was, or even his name, (Canadia, right?) and sometimes taken advantage of his brother's forgiving nature when he landed himself in a fight with Cuba, but he, America, the hero, was still the older brother. And older brothers protected their younger brothers from weirdoes like Russia and Prussia, right?

Right, and since he was also the hero, he had every right to be a little protective of Canada. After all, his little brother didn't exactly have the best taste in friends. He seemed to have the bad luck of choosing a bunch of shady guys for buddies, and America would even go so far as to say he attracted those types of people like a magnet. That asshole Cuba, that creep Russia, that pedophile druggie Netherlands, overzealous, perverted France, and now _Prussia_, of all people! It was enough to make America's head spin.

Absolutely not. He was putting his foot down. If any of those losers got near his brother, he'd have to nuke their asses right into 2012. Because he was the hero, damnit, and that was what heroes did; they beat the living snot out of the bad guys. Yeah…

Since _he_ was the hero, _he_ had to protect Canada. In which case, was it _selfish_ for America to want to be the focal point of Canada's life? Was it _greedy_ to want to be the person Canada trusted most, emulated, even?

Well, was it?

They were brothers, it was only natural. Right?

His head hurt.

"I think your brother is trying to explode the awesome me with his mind."

"Eh?"

"But I'm too awesome. It'll never work. My awesomeness will just overwhelm him. Kesese." Red eyes roamed over to the American and narrowed in irritation. Their gaze locked and did not falter.

It was a long stretch of time in which the two stood their ground, frowning and glaring at each other. Finally, Canada broke the silence.

"What are you two doing, eh?" He ventured to ask, effectively snapping both sides of the staring contest out of their concentration. They looked over at him. Canada blinked. They were acting kind of weird, even putting into account their eccentric personalities.

There was a long pause. America, naturally, was the first to speak. He thrust a finger out at Prussia. "Hey, Mattie, this dude is so obviously suspicious, bro. You shouldn't be letting him stay at your place!"

"Al, that's rude…"

"_I'm _suspicious? _You_ were the one staring at me through the whole meeting." Prussia countered, annoyed. "I mean, I know that I'm _incredibly_ sexy and all and you can't help but stare, but you're really not my type."

America narrowed his eyes. "And just who _is_ your type?"

Prussia smirked mockingly. "Take a wild guess."

America slammed both his hands loudly onto the table, making the nations sitting near him jump. "I don't think I like what you're implying."

By now, almost all the nations had become spectators, chattering excitedly to one another and placing bets.

"Al! Cut it out!" Canada said nervously, attempting (and failing) to keep the peace.

"What's got _your_ panties in a twist, Jones?" Asked Prussia, all cockiness and arrogance.

America glared sourly. "Your mother."

"Guys, c'mon. What are you two even fighting about?" Asked Canada, exasperation clear in his voice.

"Who."

"Canada, Kumajiko." He sighed.

"That wasn't my point." Replied the bear cryptically.

"Eh?" Canada shook his head. "I really don't get you sometimes, Kuma—Ah! Al, will you stop antagonizing Mr. Prussia already?"

"I've got nukes. Lots of 'em. I'm not afraid to use them." America paused, then added for good measure. "…I'm the hero."

"Really, you two, cut it out." Canada said quietly, though neither parties seemed to have heard him thus far.

"Oh, the awesome me is shaking in my boots. Why don't you do us all a favour and smother yourself in those artery-clogging burgers of yours."

"Guys!" Canada exclaimed nervously, getting impatient. He pushed himself up to stand in case he had to physically intervene in their fight.

"I'll give you artery clogging, you—"

"Unbelievable—_Will you both shut the hell up, eh_?"

The entire room fell dead silent, and, though not everyone could see him, everyone could _feel_ the veritable storm Canada was brewing under his usually quiet demeanour.

Canada sucked a deep breath in and resumed his seating, fixing them both with an unwavering stare. Quietly now, he said, "There's—a meeting going on. If you have any problems, it would be better to settle them afterwards, eh…?"

"But—" America began to protest.

"Al." Said Canada evenly, "I won't have you starting meaningless fights here. This may be how you settle things in America, but here, I won't stand for it." His voice trembled a bit at the end, as if he wasn't accustomed to saying something so assertive.

America fixed Canada with an affronted, betrayed stare that seemed quite incongruous on his usually cheerful, energetic face, but said nothing more on the subject of Prussia's questionable motives. It was silent for a few moments, and then France said something horrendously perverted and England started screeching profanities in old English slang and they were off again, shouting over each other. Canada sighed. This was just going to be one huge, two-week headache, wasn't it? He looked over at America and England, the former of which had jumped into the conversation and was having a heated (read: loud) debate about taxing that had dissolved into meaningless insults and curses that would have made a sailor blush.

Well… at least this was the limit of insanity, even for a world meeting. …Right?

Wrong.

The double doors to the meeting room suddenly slammed open, and a tall man stood in their crashing wake. _Shit, eh_. Canada thought to himself as he instantly recognized the irate man in the doorway. The man was thin and wiry, like a cat, his black hair shiny and slicked back, a slight beard growing on his face. Curved eyebrows were furrowed together in anger; and narrowed, periwinkle eyes scanned the room and then stopped when they reached the poor nation. The man gritted his teeth.

"Canada , vous moche pas de sage sursaut! Vous êtes totalement méprisable! J'ai été attente dans ce stupide parlement bâtiment pour semaines pénible à parler à vous , vous se faire bien voir! Je réclamer thanksggiving vous faites j'ai une le compteur! Je vouloir pas saisir pas de pour une réponse!" He yelled thunderously, pointing a long finger at the Canadian in blame. (Canada, you lousy no good jerk! You are completely despicable! I have been waiting in this stupid parliament building for weeks trying to talk to you, you ingrate! I demand that you make me a country! I will not take no for an answer!)

"Quebec! J - J'ai déjà parler vous , hein , je ne pas élasticité vous se que vous vouloir. Vous êtes pas financièrement écurie suffisamment être âgé votre propre nation. S'il vous plaît s'arrêter tracasser mon peupler dans parlement , ils sont ayant une résistant suffisamment de temps que le c'est. Nous voulons parler autour de ça à la suite les la réunion, rendez-vous?" Replied Canada anxiously, looking around the room at all the confused and irritated faces. (Quebec! I-I have already told you, eh, that I cannot give you what you want. You are not financially stable enough to be your own nation. Please stop bothering my people in parliament; they are having a tough enough time as it is. Can we please talk about this after the meeting?)

"Non!" Quebec cried back angrily, stomping his foot on the floor like a petulant child not getting his way. (No!)

"Oi! Speak English!" England yelled angrily.

"Ferme la bouche, bouffon!" The province screeched back. (Shut your mouth, you buffoon!)

"Quebec!" Canada cried reproachfully, rising from his seat to walk over to the man. He drew out a breath, turned to face the now curious other nations, and bowed deeply, something he'd learned from watching Japan to do when you're particularly remorseful. "Please excuse me."

Immediately following their departure from the room, Prussia swiftly turned to face France, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow and silently demanding answers. France frowned, sighed, and cast a sideways look at the other countries, who had all gone back to forgetting the Canadian's presence (or lack thereof), as per usual.

"That was Quebec." He said in explanation, an odd flicker coming into his eyes at the name. "He is one of Canada's provinces, though he is not a fan of that situation, as he demonstrated just now." He glanced at the door, then back to Prussia. "Quebec never did seem to get along with Canada… He's too stubborn, I think…"

"Why doesn't he like _Canada_? Canada's—" Prussia waved his hands up and down in emphasis of a point that wasn't too clear, in France's opinion. Catching the knowing smile on France's face, he frowned, and slowly said. "…He's _Canada_, for Christ's sake!"

"Oui, oui, that may be true, but it is not Canada's personality that seems to rub Quebec the wrong way. Rather, it is his refusal of granting Quebec the status he wishes."

"Status?"

"Quebec has wanted to be his own country since… Well… For decades. He is very persistent despite the obvious drawbacks to becoming an independent country." The Frenchman sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, and, finding that—surprisingly—he still had a captive audience in Prussia, continued. "At any rate, Quebec is quite adamant on becoming…independent. I believe he's been causing mon petit Mathieu troubles since the sixties."

"The sixties?" Prussia cocked an eyebrow, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Persistent bastard, is he? So why doesn't Canada just give 'im what he wants? Then he won't have to deal with the idiot."

Francis' eyes twinkled, but not with their usual amorous undertones; there was something else there, something secretive lurking in the depths of those sapphire eyes. He knew something, but he wasn't going to tell. "As I said, mon ami Prusse… There are drawbacks."

Prussia left the meeting more confused and frustrated than when he'd entered.

Not awesome.

**Sorry for the wait. I hope this isn't a horrible chapter. Ugh… For some reason, it's getting harder to write, but we'll try to get back into the groove of things. _;; As always, please review~ **

**-Age and Ricchan.**


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